


More than Wednesdays

by myrish_lace



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Laundry, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Sansa can't stop staring at the handsome guy at the laundromat who looks like a hot history professor. When he asks her for soap one day, they get to know each other better. Fluff and angst ensues.





	More than Wednesdays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts).



> For the Jonsa Spring Challenge laundromat photo prompt! Dedicated to Amy, who loves hot history professor Jon. 
> 
> I'm myrish-lace-love on tumblr if you want to say hi! :)

Cute laundromat guy was back. The one with the hot professor glasses and a head full of dark curls. Sansa sighed as she loaded her laundry into the washer and added a dollop of soap. He showed up every week, and despite Marg’s urging she hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to him. 

Another day of admiring him out of the corner of her eye, then. She pressed the “delicates” button and jumped when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

Hot Professor blinked rapidly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you and I apologize for bothering you, but do you have any soap I could borrow?” His brown eyes were soft and soulful and she was  _not_  falling for a random man who showed up at the Fluff and Fold on Wednesdays.

Sansa glanced at her bottle of detergent. “Well, that depends. Do you want your clothes to smell like Citrus Sunrise? Or are you too much of a man’s man?”

Okay, so apparently she was fine with laundromat flirting after all.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s a nice smell, actually. I’ve liked it since...” The tips of his ears turned pink. “Um, anyway Citrus Sunrise sounds great. I’m Jon, by the way.”

Sansa shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jon. I’m Sansa.” Do not notice how his hands are rough and calloused. Do not daydream about the sexy manual labor he does. She handed over the bottle, and their fingers touched.

“Thanks, I owe you. I’ll pay you back,” Jon said sincerely.

“It’s soap, Jon, it’s not a hardship, please, ask anytime you need something. Soap or fabric softener or quarters.”  _Or me._  She mercifully closed her mouth before that last part, and toyed with the end of her braid.

Jon ducked his head. “Thanks a lot.” They each finished their laundry in silence. But he did give her a little wave when he left, and she waved back. She floated all the way back to her apartment on that wave.

***

The next Wednesday Sansa came armed with a boost of confidence, fueled by a pep talk from Marg and a triple shot of espresso. She’d even put on a cute yellow sundress. She gave Jon a big smile as she separated her lights and darks. Then she sauntered over.

“So I have to ask are you a lumberjack? It’s only because you bring in flannels every week and I couldn’t help but notice because you have so many shirts – is there a checkered combination you _don’t_ own? –  and I’m not sure if they even have lumberjacks anymore? Like how do you make money? Where would you chop down trees?”

Waaaaay too much caffeine. Sansa wanted to sink into the floor.

The corner of Jon’s mouth quirked. “I’m a history teacher, actually, but my students tease me about being a lumberjack. I do chop wood for my parents’ cabin if that counts." He pushed his glasses up his nose. “How about you?”

“I’m an intern at an advertising firm.”

Jon gestured to her laundry. “So that’s why all the...fancy pretty clothes?”

Sansa wondered if he might be trying to flirt back. “Not that fancy, if they’re machine washable. I take my suits to the dry cleaners.”

“Well, I’m glad you have fancy clothes that are machine washable. It’s...nice, having someone to talk to.”

Sansa’s stomach fluttered. “I like talking to you too, Jon. Same time next week? Maybe we use the machines next to each other?”

“I’d love that. If nobody gets here first.”

“We’ll elbow them out of the way,” Sansa whispered conspiratorially.

Jon grinned. His smile was like the sun, transforming his whole face. Sansa’s knees went weak.

“Deal.”  

***

A few months later Sansa raced inside to avoid the downpour. She'd forgotten her umbrella, and probably looked like a wet cat.

Jon had saved her machine for her. He handed her a clean towel. “For your hair? Or wherever?” He flushed. “Or whatever you want?” 

Sansa was pretty sure he’d offer to buy her a towel set if she let him keep talking. Jon was sweet like that. Sweet, and funny, and the highlight of her week.

“Thanks.” She dried off as best as she could, then pulled her damp hair back into a ponytail. “So what did you teach the kids about Mesopotamia?” 

Soon they were lost in conversation as they folded and sorted. Sansa wanted to whine with frustration when the last dryer buzzed. She’d even started bringing some of Marg’s laundry to draw out their nights together.

“You could just  _ask him out_ ,” Marg had told her on Sunday, when she handed over her basket. “Honestly Sansa, you could go to the movies or somewhere that doesn’t have a blinking Extra Soapy Suds sign in the window. You can always bring your laundry to my place.”

But Sansa couldn’t stop. She had a good thing going with Jon, and she didn’t want to blow it. Because this little slice of time with him got her through the rest of the week. She couldn’t afford to lose him.

Jon cleared his throat. “Sansa? Want help out to your car? I’ve got an umbrella.”

If I asked him out, this wouldn’t have to be the end of the evening, she thought. They could go to a restaurant and share a meal and maybe she’d even work up the guts to kiss him.

“Sure,” she said instead. “Sure, thank you.” They shielded themselves against the rain while they packed up Jon’s car and then hers.

Sansa lingered by the parking meter. Jon hovered over her with the umbrella. “Thanks for tonight,” she said. “For the towel and the help to the car and well, thanks.”

Jon’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “No problem.” He hesitated. “Your ponytail, you’ve got...” He reached out tentatively and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Sansa could blame her trembling on the brisk fall night. But she didn’t want to. She leaned into his touch. Please get the message, she thought, please, because I’m coming off of a rough relationship and I can’t seem to manage to ask you out. But I desperately want you to ask me.

“Sansa, would you..." Jon faltered. He looked down at the pavement, and she was sure the moment had passed.

Then he swallowed and met her eyes. “I’d like to see you on more than Wednesdays and I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime and if you don’t feel the same way that’s totally fine, we can stay friends or if that’s too weird now that I’ve screwed this up I can switch laundromats if you’re uncomfortable, there’s another Fluff and Fold a few miles from here and–“

He was willing to switch laundromats, if she needed him to, so that she’d feel safe. It was ridiculous. It was over the top.  It healed a hole in her heart she hadn’t known was there.

She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in. “I’d love to have dinner with you, Jon. I’d like to kiss you too.”

“Oh thank god,” Jon whispered. He drew her in for a kiss. His full lips were soft and warm and when Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck he groaned and dropped the umbrella to hold her tighter.

Jon yelped and Sansa shrieked as they both got soaked by the rain.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jon said as he scrambled for the handle on the ground. He soon had them covered again, but they were both shivering slightly. “I’ve just wanted to do that for forever and I kissed you and, um, I stopped thinking."

Sansa smiled. She glanced over at the laundromat, but the lights had gone out. “Too bad it’s closed. We could have dried off in there.”

“You could come to my place,”  Jon said absently. “You could change and we could toss your clothes in the dryer–”

“Wait what?”

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “I uh...I’ve had a washer and dryer in my new building for about a month now? But I couldn’t stop coming here, because I wouldn’t see you, and this is the best part of my week. And I couldn’t ask you out, because I was too scared to lose you.”

“So you come to the Fluff and Fold every Wednesday just to see me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, so do I, so you’re not alone. But let’s try out a restaurant next week, okay? For...more than Wednesdays.”

Jon touched her cheek. “I like the way that sounds.” 

 


End file.
